


Quid Pro Q

by ChuckleVoodoos



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, The Pitfalls of Dating an Omnipotent Entity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuckleVoodoos/pseuds/ChuckleVoodoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is not an easy lover to have. He is certain that Picard must have an ulterior motive for putting up with him for so long, he's just not sure what it is.</p><p>Picard is not thrilled with this unflattering assumption about his character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quid Pro Q

Picard enters his quarters after a rather excruciatingly long debriefing on what might have been the single most tedious mission of his life. He strips himself quickly of his captain’s uniform, going through his evening ablutions purely by muscle memory, and collapses into bed wearing his favorite set of pajamas, already anticipating the sweet release of slumber.

 

It takes him a moment to realize that he is not alone in his bed. It might have taken him even longer if a warm arm hadn’t wrapped around his chest and rolled him over to greet a smiling face that he knows well.

 

Picard cannot help his own fond smile at the sight. After all, both he and his lover lead busy lives, and so every moment that they are able to steal together is a blessing.

 

“Q. I have missed you, love.” He murmurs, bending up for a kiss. Q obliges him easily enough, but there is something about the kiss, something… taut. Something almost nervous—much like their first, when Picard had taken a action that he’d thought about often: shutting Q up with a kiss.

 

Picard pulls away, frowning. They are far from their first kiss, and after Picard’s feelings for him became known, Q has almost uniformly been the more aggressive of the two in such matters.

 

“What’s the matter, Q?” He asks worriedly, for something that upsets a Q means extreme danger for those in the immediate vicinity. Q shakes his head dismissively and leans back in for another kiss. This one is even odder than the last one. It is both desperate and distracted, and still nervous. His arms hold Jean-Luc too tightly. When Jean-Luc’s mouth is free once more, he continues. “Q, you can talk to me, you know that.”

 

Neither of them are men that like to share difficulties and emotional issues with others, unwilling to show their vulnerabilities and unable to believe that they cannot somehow solve the problem on their own. This is not entirely hubris on their part; in truth, they _are_ able to handle most troubles thrown their way on their own merits. For the ones that they cannot, they have mostly kept it to themselves as much as they can, and asked for help only when absolutely necessary (and perhaps not optimal). It is a character flaw that plagues them both.

 

Yet, with the advent of their relationship, they have grown steadily better at reading each other’s emotional cues and offering support where it seems that it might actually be helpful (the meaningless platitudes of ‘it’ll get better’ and ‘it’s not so bad’ have no place here). The trust and warmth of their relationship helps them to feel that the other is not judging and is personally vested in their well being, making the sharing of problems easier than it might be with others. Sometimes the sufferer shares willingly, seeking comfort, and sometimes they must be coaxed and cajoled into admitting that they need help.

 

This is a situation that clearly requires a coaxing and cajoling intervention, because otherwise Q would already have solved it himself.  

 

“Of course I know that I can talk to you, mon capitaine. We do it almost every day after all, now that we’ve gotten so much closer.” The leer he affects with these words does nothing to faze Picard.

 

“Well then, if it is such a simple action, why don’t you share what’s bothering you?” Q smiles at him indulgently.

 

“And what makes you think that I’m bothered by anything, except that it’s been far too long since I last saw you, my dear Jean-Luc?” Picard snorts.

 

“It’s been a week, Q—hardly ‘long’. And besides, haven’t you heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder?” He smiles at his lover, whom he might have been fonder of upon his return had such a thing been possible. Sometimes the depths of his regard concerning Q frighten him, or at least they used to. Now he revels in the steady warmth and love that fills him every day, knowing that he has not a mission, not a code, but maddening and handsome entity to devote his life to.

 

“Or perhaps stonier. Out of sight, out of mind.” Q counters childishly. Picard laughs, kissing Q lightly on the cheek.

 

“My dear, I can assure you that there was not a moment that you were not in my thoughts, and that I did not wish you in my sight.” He soothes. “And perhaps you are right; a week must be too long a time to be apart if you are forgetting the ardor of my feelings.”

 

“Oh, you just—“ Q moves suddenly in a flurry of movement, standing from the bed and pacing across the room and back a few times. Picard watches, bemused and a bit concerned at the frenetic, agitated mannerisms of his lover.

 

“Q, you must tell me what is wrong. I’ve never seen you like this. Are you in trouble with the Continuum again?”

 

“Ha! The Continuum. No, they all think it’s a great laugh, or else they pity me. A Q, laid low by a _human.”_ Picard cannot help getting a bit upset himself at this.

 

“I am sorry to sully the good name of Q with my lowly company. Perhaps if you do not find the company here agreeable, you could seek other companionship. Elsewhere.” It is a hollow threat; he never wants Q to be elsewhere, even when the entity must be, but he is hurting and so he says it.

 

Q’s reaction goes beyond anything that he had imagined.

 

“Jean-Luc, don’t ask me that. Don’t send me away, please.” Q begs, taking one of Jean-Luc’s hands in his own beseechingly. Picard is stunned at the sheer amount of desperation in his voice and face, as though he thinks that Picard will do so, send away his lover of over a year without even a goodbye for a simple slight.

 

He thinks of making light of the moment, but Q’s expression stops him. Instead he smiles softly and squeezes Q’s hand with his own.

 

“Of course not, Q. I would never send you away for a moment that could be better spent together. We are both guilty of small affronts to each other, but I think that none of them are truly ill-meant and thus are not taken to be.”

 

“Y-Yes. You are right, Jean-Luc, of course.” Q says, but without his usual boisterousness. “But I am sorry. You are certainly no _mere human_ to me.” Picard nods, smiling.

 

“And I know that you believe that Q, and I thank you for such consideration. Neither do I think of you as a simple cog in the Continuum machine. You are Q, my Q, and my lover. You needn’t be anything else.”

 

“I…I greatly enjoy being your lover, Jean-Luc.” Q tells him, cautiously. Picard smile brightens.

 

“And I yours, Q. Our relationship has brought me great joy and contentment, and I hope that it has afforded some of the same to you.”

 

This reminder, strangely, makes Q look even more out of sorts.

 

“Yes, and I would very much like to continue to be your lover for a while to come.” As odd as this conversation is, Picard supposes it has been a long time coming. They have never truly discussed where they intend their relationship to go, long term. Picard himself is committed to it for what remains of his lifespan, but he has never been sure that Q saw their connection in the same light.

 

For a mortal to love a god—such stories occur frequently in the lore of almost all sentient beings. For a god to truly love a mortal—not lust after, not desire for a pretty bauble, but love? It is unheard of.

 

And yet he hopes.

 

“I would quite enjoy the same, my dear, so I am glad we are in one of our rare instances of accord.” Picard teases lightly. Q nods, decisively, and stares at Picard with such a intent expression that after a moment of silence, Picard glances around the room for something outlandish and Q-like that he’s missing (tap-dancing Klingons, a bubble containing a miniature universe, a replica statue of Abraham Lincoln that moves), summoned by his lover. There is nothing, just a dark room and a omnipotent entity gazing at him as though he is the most interesting thing that Q has ever seen. Which is an impossibly egotistical thought, of course. He thinks about querying again after what is bothering Q so much, but then Q speaks instead.

 

“So, what is it?”

 

“What is what?” Picard asks, confused and beginning to get frustrated at these strange bits and pieces he is being thrown. Q’s eyes are almost black in this lighting, and they look timeless and eerie. It is hard to tell what emotions lie in them.

 

“What is it that you want?” Want…? Deciding that this is one of those Q questions that he will never fully understand, he thinks a moment and answers as honestly as he can.

 

“Well, right now I’d like to lay back down and get as much sleep as possible before the impossibly early meeting I have tomorrow. I would like to get said sleep in my lover’s arms, hearing his heartbeat lull me to sleep. And before all that, I would like a goodnight kiss. Is that enough wanting for you?” He asks, trying to keep the exhaustion and irritation from his voice.

 

Q shakes his head, going so far as to tangle his hands in his hair like a child having a tantrum. He paces away again to the opposite side of the room, whirling to look at where Picard sits, concerned, at the edge of their bed.

 

“No, no, not those things. What do you want that I can give you?”

 

“I had been under the impression that as my lover, you _would_ be the one giving me these things. I don’t curl up in just anyone’s arms and listen to their heartbeat, you know.” Picard notes, a little dryly. Q makes a noise of irritation.

“Stop playing coy, Jean-Luc. You must know what I mean, and needlessly drawing it out like this is almost cruel.” He actually looks a little hurt, and Picard is bewildered at what he could have done to cause such a reaction.

 

“I assure you I am not being deliberately obtuse, Q. I am simply unsure of what you are speaking of. You seem to be offering me something, but not the things that I have already asked for. I’m not sure what you want to hear.”

 

Q sighs explosively.

 

“I just need to get this out of the way, alright? I don’t want it hanging over my head like a guillotine every time I’m with you.”

 

“What is ‘it’, Q? I don’t understand.” Picard tells him, careful not to let his voice rise in his frustration. Q already seems upset; it won’t do to escalate the situation further.

“What you want from me. Power? Money? Prestige? Knowledge?”

 

“What…?”

 

“Well, those are just the usual ones. I had someone ask me for a star once. And another who wanted me to make her irresistible to all men. One asked me to make them a Q—I told them no, obviously. They would have been an awful Q.”

 

“Someone asked you to make them—why? Why did all these people ask these bizarre things?” Q blinks at him.

 

“It was what they wanted from me. For engaging in a sexual relationship.”

 

Oh. It’s like a phaser blast to the heart.

 

“Q,” Picard says, voice even despite the turbulence in his heart. “Do you mean to tell me that these people who you’ve been with in the past required _payment_ from you in order to remain in a relationship? And you felt obligated to _give_ it?”

 

Now Q is the one who looks confused and a bit abashed at the banked anger in Picard’s features.

 

“Well, yes, of course. They were things effortlessly granted, with nothing more than a snap of the fingers. And it seemed... fair. I am not...the easiest lover, Jean-Luc. I know this. I can be selfish, and mercurial, and capricious, and cruel. I know these things. _You_ know these things.”

 

“Not the easiest lover.” Picard repeats, feeling a bit as though something has broken in his brain. Q, Q the clever trickster, Q the caring friend, Q the brave, not the _easiest lover?_ He might indeed not be the easiest, but he is the _best._ The _only._

 

Q, however, looks worried at his subdued reaction.

 

“I was never with these people more than once—experiments, really—and so I never felt the obligation to give them more than one gift. But you, mon capitaine, have been my constant lover--my constant everything--for over a year. I would have offered something sooner, but you never asked, and I suppose I thought you were waiting for the right time. I’ll give you more than one, of course, to make up for lost time. As many as you like. Just—“

 

“Q. Stop this.” Picard says with such authority in his quiet voice that the entity quiets immediately, trembling. Still, it seems that Q cannot remain quiet for long.

"I want to, really. Let me, Jean-Luc. Let me give you something. You've been so good to me. Please?" Jean-Luc shudders at the wheedling, desperate tone of his lover. Q does not beg. Before now, Picard hadn't thought he'd even known the meaning of the word (except perhaps where it applied to others begging _him)._ He takes a deep breath and considers his plan of attack. Merely rebuffing Q's offers will likely make the entity even more upset, as he seems convinced that this is something that Jean-Luc should want.

 

There seems to be only the option of playing along with this madness, at least outwardly.

 

 “Very well. You want to give me a worthy gift, for my spending the last year of my life being your lover?”

 

“Oh, yes, Jean-Luc. Anything at all, it’s yours. Just say the word.” Q says, looking eager and yet somehow also uneasy. Like a dog hoping for a treat and expecting a kick, Picard thinks, and the thought makes him shake a little with rage at the people who let Q believe that this was the right way to treat a lover.

 

“Come here, please, Q.”

 

The entity does not walk, instead flashes directly to Picard’s side like he cannot stand the moment it would take to cross the room. Perhaps he can't.

 

He holds out his hand again, beckoning for Q to take it. The man grasps at it quickly, holding too tight, but Picard hides his wince.

 

“Q, if you would really like to know what I desire for being your lover…” He raises their joined hands and presses a light kiss against the back of Q's. The entity gasps at the contact as Picard continues. “I want for you to never, _never_ ask me such a question again. It is insulting to both of us.”

 

Q rears back, looking alarmed.

 

“Do you mean that you-you don’t want this, anymore?” He gestures helplessly between them with his free hand, terrified. “Please, no, I’ll do anything you want, _please_ Jean-Luc. Please, just tell what to do.” Jean-Luc holds up a hand to stop Q’s babbling words.

 

“Q, listen to me very closely.” _Well, in for a penny, in for a pound._ Picard thinks. If he’s baring his soul, he might as well do it right. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to wake beside you in the morning, and go to bed with you at night. I want to read with you and argue with you and laugh with you every day. That is what I want, in my most selfish of hearts. But what I want most of all? Is for you to be happy and loved, and not feel as though you must pay a price. I would give _you_ anything, anything within my power, in order to help you feel that way.”

 

Q is trembling slightly, eyes wide and filled with bewilderment.

 

“Me? How can what you want most be for me to be happy? That’s not how it works.” He asks, inanely. “I don’t… You’re supposed to… Why?” He looks at the floor in consternation, words failing him. Picard answers him anyway.

 

“Because I love you, Q.”

 

Q freezes entirely, as though he has stopped time around himself like a security blanket. Then, slowly, achingly slowly, he turns to look at Picard. He looks shattered.

 

“You… love me.” He shakes his head firmly as if dispelling an unwanted thought. “No. No. You can’t love me. _Why would you love me?”_

“Because you are single most beautiful person that I’ve ever met, inside and out, and every single day that I spend with you makes me happier than I can ever remember being in my life. You have become a confidante, a friend, a partner-in-crime (upon occasion), a lover, and ultimately the single most important person in my life.”

 

Q looks as though he’s been struck by lightning. His mouth opens and closes a few times before speech seems to return to him.

 

“And you want nothing from me? Nothing?” Picard sighs.

 

“I enjoy your company, your warmth, and the joy you bring me. I want these things, yes. But I would never use them as leverage in a relationship. I would never _force_ you to provide them. Would you force me to love you, if I did not already?”

 

“No, of course not!” Q responded immediately.

 

“Even if it was the thing you wanted most in the world, and I could give it to you?”

 

“It _is_ the thing I want most in the world, you obtuse man!” Q snaps. “But I never thought that you could ever feel that way about me. It was--is--impossible. You would never…”

 

“Love you. Entirely, madly, deeply, without beginning or end.” Picard informs him evenly.

 

“Yes. That.” Q chokes out, sounding half-strangled. “And I would never make you—I never made you, Jean-Luc, I promise you, no matter how much I wanted it.”

 

Picard smiles at him softly.

 

“I know, love. I trust you. But I offer it to you freely, now. Without you needing to ask for it. That, Q, is what love is. It is not taking. There is no price. Love is giving, even when you know you might get nothing back.” And here Q flings himself forward with a broken sound, Picard barely managing to catch the man’s curled frame in his arms.

 

“I do, though.” Q whispers fiercely. “I do love you, so much. But is that really enough? Jean-Luc, you are such a gift, every part of you. I can’t…”

 

“You give me your love?” Q nods against Picard’s chest. “Thank you.” He says sincerely, a little awed, because such a gift must be treasured and cared for always. He plans to do so as long as he can. “And I give you mine.” He chuckles. “I think that is enough gift-giving for any relationship, don’t you agree?”

 

Q looks up at him with wet eyes shining with hope and joy and so much love. His dawning smile could outshine a sun as he realizes that Picard is in earnest. He has earned (no, received, the earning will come later and for the rest of his existence) the heart of his dear captain, the only creature that he could ever love, across time and space and universes untold. A priceless gift, worth more than all of the trinkets he's granted to other lovers put together and magnified by a trillion, and all he has had to give in return is something that he has been giving all along: love! It is all so simple, so brilliant, so _Jean-Luc_ , that it makes his head spin and his heart swell and a small solar system several galaxies away implode.

 

(He does not tell Jean-Luc about the solar system).

 

He kisses his captain and feels, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that there is no other person anywhere like Jean-Luc Picard, and there never will be. The man is one of a kind, throughout the universe and beyond, everywhere the Q are free to roam. The man is _singular_. He is perfect and paradoxical and he is _all Q’s._

 

“Best gift I’ve ever gotten. Now be a good boy and let me unwrap it.”

 

“Q!”


End file.
